


Entertainment

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-24
Updated: 2004-04-24
Packaged: 2018-11-20 17:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11339748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Boredom can produce remarkable results.





	Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Entertainment

### Entertainment

#### by Nicholas

  


Title: Entertainment  
Author: Nicholas 

E-Mail: 

Pairing: M/K  
Rating: NC-17   
Category: PWP 

Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Alex Krycek, Walter Skinner and all the other X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use. 

Notes: Beta'd by Gaby. Thanks. 

\-- 

"I'm bored," he said under his breath leaning back in his chair with an exasperated sigh and a rolling glance to the once-white ceiling, studying the file cabinets along the wall and leisurely cataloguing its contents in his mind. His eyes wandred on and his thoughts moved on to settle on the other occupant of the room, not counting the lonely fly. He waited for a sign that he had been heard, anything that would disturb the unnerving silence in this room and his boredom. 

No reaction at all. 

"I'm bored," he emphasized once more, focusing intently on the man hunched over his notes right across from him. He leaned forward on his elbows, his nose only a few inches from the other man's face. He studied him more intently now, the way his eyes moved along the lines of the notepad, the way those lashes fluttered shut every other heartbeat, the way he appeared to completely blend out the rest of the world as static. Mulder came to the conclusion that indeed his younger, his adoring puppy look using partner appeared to think of him as static at that moment. He frowned in thought, then the gleam settled in his eyes once more. 

"I said, I am bored, Krycek," he half-whined, waving his hand in front of the black-haired man's eyes. 

"I heard you the first time around, Mulder," Krycek mumbled to himself, his attention indeed completely on the file and his notes. 

Mulder stared at him, lifted his hands in an 'and now...?'-gesture and waited for further explanation on the subject at hand. There was silence again, the only sounds were the scratching of Krycek's pen, a few errant birds outside the building and the fly circling their heads. Mulder chanced a look at the file Krycek seemed to be fascinated by, a quick mental walk through the file cabinets and he found the file under 'another kid trying to gain attention'. Nothing overly important then. Not that he would tell Krycek that. So he waited for the other man's head to lift. 

"And?" Mulder finally asked, his look still one of exasperation, like one of a petulant child. "And what do we do now? Come on, don't be so boring. We've got to do something." 

Krycek glanced at Mulder from under his eyelashes before he focused back on his notes, his voice portraying indifference. "I am working, Mulder. That is 'something'." He shook his head, irritation settling on his face at the antics of the usually so ambitious senior agent. He tried to concentrate on the notes but the words began to swim in front of his eyes when he became aware of Mulder's concentration still on him. 

Mulder sighed dramatically putting all of the ten years of wisdom and life-experience he had on his junior partner into that sound. "What have they done to you, Krycek?" he asked no-one in particular except for the walls that might have listened and the irritating fly that had chosen the flickering neon lights as its object of adoration. A puppy-fly. 

Mulder allowed a look of detached pondering and world-weary wonder to place itself in his eyes, staring at the patch of wall over Krycek's shoulder. "I bet that you used to be fun, back when you were younger, always up for a bit of...entertainment." 

"Some people actually do grow up, Mulder," Alex replied absent-mindedly, scribbling a few more words on his pad before he became immersed in the file again. 

Mulder ignored his reply altogether, following the trail of thoughts he had discovered now. "What _did_ you do when you were younger, Krycek? Were you always this focused? Did you always have the kind of geeky, nerdy, follow-the-rules thing going for you?" There was a pregnant pause before continuing. "Have you always been this boring?" 

He got a pointed stare as a reply. Krycek's lips didn't move to verbally express the disdain he appeared to feel. His eyes communicated his feelings perfectly. Mulder ignored the look and still watched him for a while once the eyes were glued to the paper and the pen again. He watched the way his hair was almost falling into his eyes, the way his forehead knitted every so often, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips. 

Then he looked away. At the ceiling again, studying the fly and the unnatural attraction neon lights seemed to hold for it. His eyes glanced around the room while his mind tried to settle on something that would bring his partner out of his shell and thereby give him something that could keep his attention for a while. So he stared back at Alex, then at his own desk, tried to focus on the research he should be reading. His eyes started shifting around the windowless room again. A smile crept to his lips and eyes. 

He got up and paced. Back and forth. Slowly. Desk, door, desk, door. Four steps, turn, four steps, turn. His hands were clasped in the small of his back. He glanced at his partner's reaction. Only the brows had knitted a little further. He began to whistle softly under his breath, increasing volume to drown out the birds and even make the fly stop and settle on the wall. The title melody of a movie he had watched, which movie, he couldn't say but it didn't really matter anyway. 

Five minutes of pacing and whistling. He watched Krycek from the corner of his eyes, his lips quirking up at the tensing of shoulders and jaw, the way the frown deepened by the second. 

Ten minutes. Almost there now, if the white-knuckled grip on the pencil was any indication of the frustration level. 

"Would you stop that already?" Krycek finally ground out through clenched teeth, his hands balled into fists, hovering an inch or two above the desk top, glaring daggers at the senior agent who stopped his pacing at once at hearing the voice, still turned to the door, looking at his partner over his shoulder. 

"Stop, what?" Mulder asked with an innocent smile and a 'who me?'-expression on his face curiously allowing his eyes to wander along the tense body of the man who looked as if he'd like to tear his head off any moment. 

"You know what I mean," Alex replied, his eyes spitting fire at the grinning man. "Sit down, Mulder, do whatever you need to do but be silent. Don't run around, don't whistle and let me finish this file and my notes." 

"Frustrated?" Mulder said sweetly, turning around, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

"Don't fuck with me," Krycek said into the silence, dangerously deep green eyes glittering with barely contained rage. "I'm here to work. I get paid to work. So stop jerking my chain and sit down and waste your time with something that does not include aggravating me." 

Mulder continued to grin, studying the ceiling in mock-thought. "On one condition, I'd be inclined to consider that offer," he amended slowly. His eyes moved back to rest on the black-haired man, looking him over appraisingly. 

Krycek rolled his eyes but nodded sharply, desperation outweighing the possible humiliation of begging for the bit of quietness he needed. Still he regarded Mulder suspiciously, looking for the ulterior motives and waiting for the trap to fall shut. 

"One condition," Mulder repeated, drawing out his victory for as long as possible, then with a slow lascivious smile, "a kiss." 

"A kiss?" Krycek asked dumbfounded, raising his eyebrows, the mask of frustrated indifference slipping from his face to make room for utter surprise, and then suspicion once more. 

"Yup," Mulder replied easily, bouncing on the balls of his feet almost whistling again, a Cheshire-cat look on his face, looking at Alex expectantly. 

"Like, a kiss?" 

"Yup." 

"And then you will sit down and you won't whistle or talk or try to lure me into talking to you. You won't do any of that?" Alex made sure once more, the suspicion not quite vanished from his voice. 

"Nope," Mulder replied, a self-satisfied smile on his face. 

"And this is no trap with people jumping out of closets, yelling 'we can't believe that you fell for that, Krycek'?" 

"Krycek, I'm hurt," Mulder answered sarcastically. "No, it isn't," he added to clarify, knowing full-well that Krycek wouldn't have any reason to believe that either. It was worth a try though. 

Still having a bad feeling about this, Alex walked up to Mulder, giving him another glance as he stood right in front of him. His eyes fluttered closed moments before his lips were about to touch Mulder's. His partner watched with fascination how the younger man's features went slack in anticipation of the kiss. Krycek's lips on his were sweet, almost innocent, warm. Mulder held the contact for a few moments before opening his lips and teasing Krycek's closed ones with his tongue, asking for entrance. With a sigh the other man's mouth opened ever so slightly and Mulder's tongue slipped inside, tasting coffee and chocolate on the other man. His tongue gently explored the other man's mouth. His hands moved up to the black hair, tousling it with practiced fingers and keeping Krycek's face in place. He was surprised when his tongue encountered its twin and they began to play with each other. Mulder finally drew back with a wet slurping sound, his hands slipping down to Krycek's waist. He watched the younger man's eyes open and blink in the neon light, the reddened, glistening mouth slightly parted, breath coming in shallow gasps. 

Moving his hand to the front of Krycek's slacks, he placed his palm on the other man's fly, simply holding it there, feeling the heat through the layers of clothing. He watched Krycek's eyes flutter shut upon contact and a low keening moan escape his throat, a low, seductive, humming sound. Mulder squeezed slightly and Krycek's hips began moving against his hand, pressing his cock against the warmth of the firm caress. The older man smiled at the slackness of his partner's features, at the firmness of muscle on his waist that he was trying to hold steady, at the sounds emerging from the younger man, the cries that were getting louder the closer he he was drawn to the brink. He enjoyed those wildly fluttering eyelids and the way the cloth-clad cock was pumped against his hand. 

With a final cry Krycek melted against Mulder who did everything to hold him up. Once he could stand firmly on his own again he looked at Mulder through his thick lashes, smiling almost shyly at the other man. He placed quick peck on his lips. "Thanks," he said softly and walked around his partner, leaving the room to find a restroom to clean up. 

Mulder smirked to himself, gave a low whistle of appreciation and then he dedicated his attention to the computer sitting on his desk. He powered it up giddily, drumming his fingers on the desk with impatience. The computer's vital signs were showing the okay status and instantly his fingers were on mouse and keyboard, typing in his password, and then opening his e-mail program once he was allowed to enter. He pondered what to write for a moment, his eyes once more following the fly's trail around the lamp. A smirk was sent to the small camera hidden in the upper corner of the room, then he typed, 'you said that I could get myself a puppy, Walter'. 

~ The End   
  

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Nicholas


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